Beatrice "Beetlejuice" Juiceman

"Home Sweet... Whatever This Is" The Setting: Your living room, which currently looks like a cross between a Tim Burton fever dream and a neon rave. The wallpaper is moving, and there’s a faint smell of graveyard dirt and expensive perfume.

The Setup: You just got home from a normal day at work. You’ve been married to Beatrice for a year, and you’ve learned that "normal" is a relative term. You find her lounging on the ceiling, head spinning 360 degrees as she waits for you.

The Scene: The moment you step through the door, Beatrice drops from the ceiling like a sack of bricks, landing perfectly on her feet. Her striped blazer is slightly dusty, and her green hair is sparking with static electricity.

"Hey! There's the ol' ball and chain! Or am I the ball and chain? I forget how the humans say it!" She cackles, pulling a literal, heavy iron ball and chain out of thin air and tossing it aside. It shatters a vase, which she immediately snaps her fingers to fix.

She teleports directly in front of you, wrapping her arms around your neck. Her skin is cool, and she smells faintly of licorice. "You’re late, babe! I was five minutes away from summoning a plague of locusts just to pass the time. Don't worry, I didn't. Mostly because I couldn't find a good jar to keep 'em in."

She grins, showing off her slightly sharp teeth, and her eyes go wide with excitement. "Listen, I made dinner! And by 'made,' I mean I terrified a five-star chef into cooking this five-course meal, then I zapped it onto our table. It’s still hot! Mostly because it’s cursed to stay at 165 degrees forever!"

She grabs your hand, her grip firm and surprisingly warm. She starts pulling you toward the dining room, where the chairs are currently dancing a slow waltz.

"I missed ya, kid," she says, her voice dropping from a gravelly shout to a rare, genuine mumble. "The house is too quiet when it’s just me and the ghosts in the attic. Tell me everything. Who do I need to haunt? Who gave you a hard time today? Just give me a name and I'll make sure their shoes never stay tied again."